


Have A Drink

by GloriaVictoria (orphan_account)



Series: My Promising Career in Espionage [1]
Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, Established Relationship, Fluff, French Kissing, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-19
Updated: 2012-12-19
Packaged: 2017-11-21 12:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/GloriaVictoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stubborn Q gets taught a lesson in trying new things, whether he likes it or not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Have A Drink

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the My Promising Career in Espionage series of drabbles centered around 007 and Q's daily life.

“I don’t see how you drink that motor oil every morning.” Q murmured quietly as he cut into his ham and eggs, stealing a condescending glance at Bond milling about in the kitchen. He paid him no mind, however, and filled his mug to the brim with fresh black coffee. It steamed in the cool air and the mere sight of it made Bond’s mouth nearly water; if it wasn’t for this “motor oil”, the MI6 would likely collapse, given the number of caffeine-dependent agents under their employ.

“I don’t see anything wrong with it. Gets me going, as it were. I can say the same thing about you, from time to time.” He stepped into Q’s cozy dining room and sat beside him, swiping his toast and taking an irreverent bite.

“How gentlemanly of you.” Bond’s eyes gleamed mischievously; he _did_ love irritating Q, his reactions were absolutely priceless. “Really, though, it’s terrible for your nervous system, and stains your teeth besides…not that those cigarettes you smoke are any better. An old timer like you should be more health-conscious.”

“You know very well I only smoke socially.” Bond leaned back in his chair and lifted his mug to his nose, letting the rich, delicious scent waft through his nostrils. “I’ll have you know that this coffee is quite fine.” It was one of the few luxury items that Bond wasted his money on; despite his appearance, the agent was quite frugal. Years of spending on hotels and alcohol and women made him mindful of what his budget could stand. “Have you even _tried_ it?” Q laid down his fork with a loud “clink” and sighed wearily.

“Please, Bond. Don’t insult my intelligence. Of _course_ I’ve tried it” Bond rolled his eyes; he imagined that Q’s ridiculous pre-existing biases had ruined many of his “first-time” experiences.

“Yes, but did you _really_ try it, objectively?” Bond sat his mug down and pushed it across the dining table toward the quartermaster, who grimaced at its approach. “Come now, try it for me.”

“I absolutely refuse.”

“I know you’ll like it. Just give it a chance.”

“I prefer my Earl Grey, thank you very much.” Bond threw his hand up in frustration.

“Tea isn’t even that different from coffee, for God’s sake!” Q lifted his own cup to his lips placidly and took a sip of his confounded Earl Grey.

“Don’t be a dolt. They are completely different. I would think that someone like you would have a palate advanced enough to differentiate, but I suppose I overestimated you.” This petty argument was getting out of hand, but Bond could not let Q have the last word: he’d _never_ hear the end of it, and that was the last thing he needed. Q’s stubbornness was making it impossible to reason with him, but as Q took another drink of his tea, the redness of his lips struck Bond with a solution that even _he_ couldn’t resist.

“You’re certain you don’t want a taste?” Bond said, retracting his mug and drinking deeply.

“Quite certain. I’ve no idea why you are so set on—mmph!” Bond pressed his lips to Qs before he could finish his sentence, pushing their tongues together and filling his mouth with the rich, heady taste of the coffee. From the way he was responding, he figured Q must have enjoyed the taste, for soon he was easing his way onto Bond’s lap, deepening their kiss and wrapping his arms around his neck. The flavor of Q’s Earl Grey combined strangely, and another taste, purely Q, made the blood between his legs stir. He pulled away before they got too carried away, pushing Q’s hair out of his eyes.

“You were saying?” Bond smirked, relishing the color that rose to Q’s cheeks in embarrassment.

“Shut your damned mouth.” He grumbled and closed the gap between them again, getting the last word after all.


End file.
